


Here with Me

by wallaby24



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallaby24/pseuds/wallaby24
Summary: So I'm actually working on a multi-chapter, but I took a quick break to do Philip and Theresa at the G20 in Germany.





	Here with Me

“I think you might be the most wonderful husband in the world,” Theresa said with a relieved sigh as Philip’s knuckles kneaded the arch of her foot. “That feels _amazing_.”

They’d come back to their room quite late after the G20 dinner and concert and gotten ready for bed, but then Philip had offered to rub her feet before lying down himself. And after a long, busy, fourteen-hour day in heels, she certainly wasn’t going to refuse. Theresa was thus stretched out in bed, her feet in her husband’s lap as he slowly eased the throbbing that had begun hours earlier.

“If I’m the most wonderful husband in the world,” he said with a grin, “will you let me have my lanyard back?”

It was the last thing she’d expected to hear, and she laughed. The pleasure he had taken in having an official-looking badge had been very sweet, but there had been no question in her mind of his wearing it into a formal dinner.

“If you love it that much, you may have it back, as long as you promise not to wear it to the mayor’s reception tomorrow.”

He gave her a look of mock injury. “You won’t let me wear it to the reception?”

“No, but you may wear it on the plane home.”

“As long as I get it back.”

She giggled. “You can have it back, darling.” They fell into silence, and she returned to her earlier sentiment. “In all seriousness, this is really sweet of you. I know you’ve had a long day, too.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I took a boat ride, then I came back to the hotel and took a nap because they were afraid to take us anywhere else because of the protesters, then I had dinner and listened to music—and all in flats!” he said with a wink. “You, on the other hand, have been in more meetings than I can count, and you’ve given interviews and spoken to the press, and you’ve felt like you were onstage all day, and you’ve probably been on your feet for half of it, and all in those little leopard heels. You’re exhausted, and your feet hurt, and you absolutely deserve this.”

Theresa smiled gratefully, her heart warming in response to his words and to the love she could feel in his hands. “Thank you…I _am_ tired, and that really does feel wonderful.”

He smiled back, his eyes soft. “I’m glad, darling. You know how I worry when you wear heels all day.”

He did worry, afraid her diabetes would mean any hint of a blister would turn into a raging infection—and although she always told him not to, she secretly loved it when he fussed over her.

“I know, but I’m fine. Tell me more about your day…what were the wives like?”

“Well, they weren’t all wives, you know.” She assumed he was referring to Angela Merkel’s husband, but he continued with, “Macron seems to have brought his mother, which was sweet of him, I guess.”

“Philip!” she exclaimed, laughing. “You shouldn’t be rude about Brigitte; she’s only a couple years older than me.”

“And yet she looks old enough to be your mother. Then of course we had Mr. Angela Merkel…that bloke thinks he’s a genius, I hear, but as far as I can tell, he doesn’t even speak English.”

“He must speak English! Did he claim he couldn’t?”

“No, but he never spoke to anyone, let alone me. So if he speaks English, he clearly didn’t learn it so that he could waste his time actually speaking to English people. And also, he’s such a nerd that even _I_ wanted to steal his lunch money.”

She loved him for this, for always making her laugh, even if it was at poor Mr. Merkel’s expense. “Mr. Merkel can’t help that he likes chemistry, you know. Mrs. Thatcher liked chemistry too.”

“And what a shining example of normalcy that woman was,” he went on, prompting more giggling. “Of course, he’s not Mr. Merkel; he’s Mr. _Sauer_. And not because she kept her maiden name; no, she kept her _first_ husband’s name. I like to think I could understand if you wanted to use your maiden name, but if you told me you preferred to use an ex’s name, I’d have to think we’d taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else’s name,” Theresa said, smiling as she remembered how, like a thirteen-year-old girl, her college self had taken to doodling _Mrs. Philip May_ at the top of her school notes. “I like having yours.”

“Well, you’ve certainly done it proud.”

“What was Melania like?” she asked, curious about the first lady she had yet to meet.

“Oh, she was all right. Friendly, graceful, lovely accent. Not as attractive as you.” They shared another smile, and she let herself relax as he told her more about the cruise and the other women. A peaceful silence settled over them as he finished with her right foot and moved to her left. After a few minutes she closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing pressure…but no, she didn’t want to drift off yet. She forced her eyelids open again.

“You can go to sleep if you like,” Philip said gently. “I’m trying to relax you, so I won’t be offended if you do, you know, relax.”

She laughed softly. “No, I want to fall asleep in your arms. I don’t usually get to do that on my trips.” She paused, thinking of how much nicer it had been to have him with her tonight. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I’ll bet you are!” he said, chuckling.

“No!” she said, kicking him playfully with her other foot. “Not just so you can rub my feet; I’ve been glad all day. It was really nice to know that I’d get to see you at dinner and have you with me for the concert, and that I’d get to have you in my bed tonight.”

He grinned. “Well, you’ll never hear me object to sharing your bed.”

She smiled and lapsed into silence again, finding it harder and harder to keep her eyes open as he massaged her left foot, eventually finishing and then lying down next to her. She moved immediately into his arms, snuggling next to him with her head resting on his chest.

“Is this how you wanted to fall asleep, darling?” she heard him say with a soft chuckle.

“Yes,” she murmured. Resting against Philip had always made her feel as though every last muscle in her body had relaxed, and she was slowly sinking into him. “You’re warm.” She was always freezing in bed if her husband wasn’t with her. “And your arms are always so…reassuring.” He kissed the top of her head.

How true that was, though. Nothing comforted her more, or steadied her more, or gave her more confidence for the next day than resting in Philip’s arms. His presence alone soothed her, and a soft touch could calm her in an instant—as his arm around her this evening had as they’d mingled with the other couples. But being held against his chest while she drifted off at night was another world entirely.

“I think,” she said, hearing the sleepiness in her own voice, “that this is the best part of having you here with me.”

She felt his hand gently rub up and down her back. “I’m pretty fond of it, too, but my lanyard is a very close second.”

She giggled, feeling his chest shake with laughter beneath her. “Oh, do shut up about that lanyard!” She raised her head to kiss his jawline. “You did look very handsome and official with it, though.”

“That’s the other part I liked best,” he said, and she heard the seriousness return to his voice. “Getting to see you at work tonight. You were beautiful and wonderful and passionate and such a perfect representative for Britain. I can’t tell you how proud it makes me to watch you as prime minister.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He tipped her chin up so that he could kiss her lips. “I love you so much, darling. And I’m very, very proud of you.”


End file.
